


It's a Terrible Thing To Love Humans

by Inay



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: And how cruel is that to be want to be loved by an elf?, Lordaeron, M/M, Other, Question of longevity and what it does to be among humans when you are immortal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:00:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26640301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inay/pseuds/Inay
Summary: For two centuries, Rahaeth had bliss and love- until the machinations of his lover's mother chased him away from Quel'thalas. He spent long afterward living among humans, in Lordaeron, and too quickly realizing the cost of loving them.
Kudos: 1





	It's a Terrible Thing To Love Humans

**Long ago, the first exile. Two centuries before current events of Azeroth.**

_He went to Lordaeron like a thief, as if being chased from his home had chased him from the kingdom as well. Just for a little while, he said to his sister, I cannot watch him be married to another. Just for a little while, to breath somewhere else, to see what those humans have that I've been reading about. Not long._   
_"I understand. I'll be there for him, you know that." He did not thank her, it was too raw, too between Sal and her, but his eyes told it. They had always understood each other._

_Just a little while. Just to avoid the wedding, to study the human practices._

_Just a little while becomes weeks._   
_He finds the transmutation of powers easier after conversations with the priests, philosophical debates. There's nothing there to remind him of home, barely any other Quel'dorei, certainly no magister. They went to Dalaran, not to Lordaeron City._

_A little while becomes months. Amarth gives him news from home, through letters mostly. The communication crystal stayed with him, but it had been part of a set of three- Sal'danis would not hear his thoughts again._   
_She says little of him either, none of his thoughts though he's certain she knows. Little of his wife. They adapt. He's alright. He's not happy but one day, perhaps? She didn't seem like a bad woman._

_Rae nods as he reads the letters, searching in his heart to wish for Sal to be happy in time. (The feeling is not so hard to find, for all it causes him agony. Wouldn't he have done anything to make him smile once? He certainly wasn't wishing for his tears, even now. Each time the barbed rope closes further on his throat. He wonders if he'd be regretted, at least a little.)_

_A little while becomes a year._   
_He finds comfort in the debates, in the studies. In the virtues they try to emulate- and shouldn't one strive to be tenacious, compassionate?_

_He meets Jacob._   
_It would be more honest to say that Jacob happened to him. The young acolyte was not easily rebuffed when he decided to befriend the elf. He was, after all, an exotic sight, full of stories from a far away land, a -magician-!_

"I had a normal, sheltered, life you know? I will not wax poetry on the golden trees of Quel'thalas."  
"Nonsense. Nothing with you is normal, and your terrible accent is made for poetry."  
"Who's saying nonsense now? My accent are fine."  
"You used the wrong grammar Rahaeth."  
 _The elf had flicked an ear in contrariety, to the great amusement of his human companion. It had sealed things._

_Jacob kept his campaign of befriending (harassing if you asked the victim) the elf, bringing gifts and snark, correcting his common and enticing him into arguments._   
_He had been there for three years when he finally recognized himself that he looks forward to the conversations._

* * *

"Love is... Like the sky. A blinding sun and healing moonlight at once."  
"And what do you even know about love Jacob?"  
"More than you and your high horses."  
 _Rahaeth had huffed, mocking._  
"When I'll love, I'll dedicate my life to it. From the moment my eyes will be on them until I die, every breath dedicated to them."  
"You're too young. I thought that too once."  
"You still think it, liar."  
 _Rahaeth had learnt further back against the wall, looking at the orchard of the monastery. Jacob, now twenty-two, grins._ "You still think it, and you're still thinking of someone."  
"Leave it be, would you? You should be thinking about loving your studies and the Light anyway, Acolyte."  
"Mmh. But I do. By finding love in one's eyes and the Light, I find a source, and all that torrent I can give back to the land, to everyone around. I dedicate my breath to one and my hands to heal, and looking in those eyes show me how to love and care for others."  
"You should have tried to be a poet, not an acolyte."  
 _He had laughed._ "Perhaps. A mandolin wielding priest."  
"That would be an entertaining way to teach."

* * *

  
"Do you like music?"  
"I am an elf."  
"That doesn't answer the question."  
"We are like birds, attracted to songs. Yes, I like music."  
"I never see you play."  
"There aren't many harps around."  
"And you can't play something else? Now that won't do, poor sad elf without music."  
"And what do you propose, poet?"  
"Something easier to transport than a harp. Let us see what human sounds you like."

* * *

  
_There is more news coming from home. Attempts to salvage what can be of his burned contacts, to find projects he could join. Matches of his own. Moira and Eithel believe he wouldn't be so chagrined if he had companionship of his own- Rahaeth doesn't protest. Doesn't disagree. He yearns for a presence by his side, to wake not alone and for his first sight to be a smile. To have someone, if he could not have the one he loved._

_It's been ten years. Nothing is found yet, but they are elves. It was such a small time for them. His fall from grace, from consort of a noble lord to disgraced, the displeasure of both Lady Falculaire and her heir were too fresh in the mind of polite society._   
_His little while is no longer little. It's better for everyone if he stays out of sight for now._

_Enid and Adelia join the conversations with Jacob and Rahaeth. The orchard hosts many more debates and arguments as the acolytes prepare themselves. They are ordained within a year of each other. Rahaeth kisses their brow in blessing and congratulation._

* * *

  
_Some years in Lordaeron are sweet, for all that the sorrow never entirely leaves. How could it? He had loved that man for two hundred years, the memories would not leave that easily._

_He never opens of it. Never told any of his human companions (friends, he'll admit when they reach thirties) of his pain. That it must have been his fault somehow, that if only he had been good enough, if only he had made attempts to elevate his status further, become a higher magister, if only he had said the right word, then perhaps he would still be there. That he was not worth the attention, never had been worthy of it, never had been enough._   
_That the sum of his love, that no matter how much he cared, no matter how brilliant or how kind, it had not been enough. Never would be._

_He never opens of it but the three humans are quick to realise when his mood turns to those dark alleys. Enid and Jacob in particular take turns to drag him out of it; funny, quick-witted Enid, always with a story or a commentary; Jacob who grows more and more poet with age, dragging him through songs and music and parodying awful love poems about his eyes to make him laugh._   
_Some days are sweeter._

_Rahaeth plays the hurdy-gurdy for Enid's marriage, and the ceremony is so different from his people, he doesn't think to the One in Quel'thalas that day. She marry Dale, a carpenter they had met on his journey and now fully a journeyman. It's a good day._   
_They move three years later to the east of Lordaeron, when Dale's uncle wills him his shop. Enid was pregnant then, and regularly sent letters of the progress. The baby is called Jake._

_Jacob and Adelia never marry, for all that Adelia smiles sweetly to ladies and men alike._

* * *

  
"My first love will always be the Light."  
"Don't you miss the companionship?"  
"Should I? I have no lack of companions. There's you, there's Rahaeth, and every cleric in our church and I swear the abbott pick them to be the most argumentative! I am not in lack of debates! And then there's sweet Bethany who visits me in winter, and old Hadley every saturday morning, and Riddley when he comes back from his travels in spring. No, no. My lovers are many and the hours few. I miss nothing."  
 _Behind them, Rahaeth had laughed of Jacob's expression at that and whistled the tune of "My Loves Are So Many", making Adelia laugh in turn._  
"I love the Light. I love everyone who comes to me, for as long as they need me to, be it for an ear to listen, a shoulder to cry, healing or a kiss. You are sweet Jacob, but I need nothing more, worry not for my heart."  
[My Loves Are So Many- Youtube video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pUMaiYQw_kg)

* * *

  
_It is after another such episode of cheering a sad elf, sitting side by side on a stone bench in the church's garden, that Jacob said something that would stay with Rahaeth's mind for all the years to come, every time he interacted with humans._

"There is a beauty in that."  
"Mh?"  
"You carry them. Whoever they were, whatever happens, you will carry them through the ages."

_Jacob had smiled and Rahaeth finally looked at his friend with more attention. He knew he hadn't changed himself- it had been merely twenty years, the blink of an eye. But Jacob, ah, Jacob was such a distance from the bright eyed youth he had first met. There were wrinkles around his eyes and his mouth, for he smiled often, and some traces of grey in his beard, and the beard too was a new thing. He saw him go from that patchy mess to that proud collar. His eyes, though, were the same, that curious brown that became amber or cocoa when hit by the light._   
_For the first time, Rahaeth realised how short human time was._

"Being loved by an elf, it's the purest form of immortality. To be remembered and mourned so long after you've gone back to the Light, not for heroics, not in stories, but for who you are. I am sorry you mourn them, but it is beautiful at the same time.  
A man is not dead while his name is spoken. Isn't that what you told me?"  
"That... is what we wish for our deceased. May their memory be a blessing. May they be remembered."  
"I remember a poem from... ah, Lady Eliott? It was one of the Hundred First, did you know?"  
"I am not that old."  
"Well, she learned more than magic from your people."  
"The troll war would have been a great cause of mourning. I am surprised the poem survived so long, that was two thousand years ago, and a few hundred to boot."  
"I did study poetry after you taunted me to."

* * *

  
_These days, while looking at one more couple of an elf and a human, he wonders sometimes if any of them ever gave a thought to what they were offering to their elven partner. If any had an idea of what it does to mourn for ages and the hole in your soul for it. He wonders if they care how cruel they are._

* * *

  
"You told me when you were young that you would dedicate your very breath to the one you'd love. Do you still believe that?"  
"I do."  
"Do you regret? Not finding them."  
"Who said I had not?"  
"Well, you are alone."  
"I am not. You should know better Rahaeth. We may not live as long, it doesn't mean our love is lesser."  
"That is not what I wanted to imply. Please accept my apologies."  
"You are forgiven my friend. I love you know. I love, and I dedicate my breath to them, every morning where I open my eyes, every prayer I say I have found in their eyes, and every time I lay my hands to heal, their smile have shown me how. It is not reciprocated, but I am not alone, and I do not love any less for it."  
"I am sorry friend, that it is not. Do you want to tell me who?"  
"No. I love like a knight in the stories of Arathor, I ask for nothing, and I'd never betray them. None needs to know. But it's something you understand, don't you?"  
"It's a painful question."  
"I know. I have seen you mourn for twenty years."  
"I'll mourn for a thousand more. We gave our heart to each other, and, yes. There was not one breath I did not think of him, one morning that was not enlightened by the thought of him."  
"You still do."  
"No, I try to heal from the mortal wound of absence."  
"Not absent from your thoughts."  
"Never from my thoughts."

* * *

_Time keeps passing, as time is want to do. They receive more letters._   
_From Amarth, bringing news of home. No match had been found yet. Sal'danis was alright still, without details. Her own researches were advancing, she was proud of her work. News from the many Silversun cousins. Mataen was to be posted south, soon. He'll travel to Lordaeron city to visit Rahaeth before._   
_From Enid, news of east Lordaeron and her kids. Little Betty and William had followed Jake. They were growing well. Darrowshire was a lovely town, particularly in spring. The lilies of Stratholme had spread even there._

_Rahaeth watches his friends age. It is a strange feeling to be the lone elf around, as if his agelessness was unnatural. Alone, he feels as if the years speed. Had Adelia had so many grey hairs yesterday?_

_They keep studying together, for there always was something to learn, something to discuss. He can weave the Light to heal, and he learned of bodies long ago, when Amarth and him first studied alchemy. He is still learning, but he knows he is -good- at this._  
 _It's a bitter thing the day he realises he can no longer ease Jacob's back pain for more than a few hours. It is too broken, going into pieces too fast for him to repair it. Jacob merely chuckles._  
"It's how it is meant to be, dear one."  
"It's not, your mages live longer, I do, I should be able to fix this."  
"Age comes for everyone in the end Rae. It's not something anyone can fix, only delay, and that's okay."

_Soon, he started walking with a cane._

* * *

  
"Don't mourn me before I am dead Rae."  
"I am not, though it is true, the thought saddens me."  
"I am not dead yet. I am not even dead soon, I am barely sixty-four."  
"We have different notions of soon."  
"Elves."  
"You knew what you were doing when you decided to pester me."  
 _He laughs._ "I did not, in fact. Merely you were strange and curious and exotic, and I had to talk to you. I did get stories of your far away land out of you, in the end."  
"You're the one that turned it into poetry."  
"Lies. Your descriptions already were."

* * *

  
_It's 16 years more before age brings Jacob to his death bed._   
_A long time from his point of view, as he drags himself through places and the pain never fully eases, as arthritis takes fully his fingers and he can no longer play his instruments and tiredness steals his breath and voice._   
_He doesn't admit it, but in the last six years, the cane was almost as much to see than to move._

_Only 16 years, so ridiculously short a time, from Rahaeth's point of view who held his hand until the end._

* * *

"You are still as blinding as when we first met."  
"Jacob, you can't even see me."  
"Of course I can, you're shining."  
"If you say so dear."  
"I regret nothing, you know?"  
"It's good you don't."  
"I had a good life. A very good life, so full of Light and love. I don't regret a thing."  
 _Silence, just holding his hand._  
"Will you remember me?"  
"As long as I am able."  
"Ah..." _The old man had smiled._ "I will never truly die then. It's nice to know..."

* * *

  
_Jacob died in the night, in peace, a few hours later._

* * *

_Humans did not burn their dead._   
_He knew it of course. He had helped more than his share of funeral rites, of last cleaning of the body, he knew how human bodies broke down and what was expected, that they went to the earth. It still felt wrong when it was his friend._   
_The family's choice._

_The other clerics were kind and spared Adelia from giving the rites herself. It would have been appropriate, they had been ordained together after all, so long ago (yesterday), but it would have been cruel in her mourning._   
_Rahaeth helps her stand when they lower the coffin into the grave, and she cries on his shoulder. Sweet Adelia, now her black hair turned white, no longer smiling so softly._   
_It seemed, to Rahaeth, a terrible thing to love humans as people when they would be taken away from you so soon, and a part of him wondered how long he still had before Adelia and Enid were taken too. He wonders how the elves in Dalaran do._

_Later, alone, he'll shed tears for his poet friend who had wished for this immortality. Truly, it was a terrible thing to love humans._

_He holds Adelia's hand too, with her eldest daughter, when it's her turn to go, two years later. She has so many advice for the family she leaves behind, before closing her eyes._   
_She seems happy too, peaceful._

_It is not so much a resolve as a realisation, that he could not love them all, could not be so close and mourn every fifty years or more. Softly, discreetly, Rahaeth withdrew._   
_He checks on Adelia's children and grand-children, as he later will with Enid's descendants- but none became a close friend, as the three had been. He is that friendly presence, a warm smile and a healing touch before he leaves again._

_It's better this way. He can love them from afar without breaking what's left of his heart over and over again._


End file.
